


Map Making

by orphan_account



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:50:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3662817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Checking in at the end of a long day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Map Making

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this forever ago, but have recently decided that I actually kind of like it.  
> Not-quite sexytimes?  
> Really, not much else to say?

Rude is sprawled out on his stomach in the dark when he hears Reno come in. Doesn’t react though, he’s trying to fall asleep. He knows that Reno knows that he’s exhausted. 

Reno leaves the lights off.

Still, Rude isn’t surprised when he feels the bed sink a little under his weight, and a hand, not un-gently on his shoulder. Reno is still dripping cold water from the shower, and he smells like plain yellow soap, and safety. 

“I’m not horny.”

“I’m looking you over anyway, yo.”

Rude waits.

He knows Reno isn’t hesitating over his lack of response, just trying to take in the expanse of his back through the dark. Just deliberating. The curtain is not fully drawn and it lets in a lance of moonlight that ends on the pillow near Rude’s right hand. He knows because he’s opened his eyes just a crack, because he can no longer tune his senses down when his partner is in this close proximity. 

In the end, Reno doesn’t reach for the bedside lamp. Just swings his legs over Rude’s hips for balance, and Rude is grateful for that. He starts with the right hand, almost illuminated. Rude shivers slightly as the calloused pads of Reno’s fingers skate over his skin. Methodical. Perfunctory. Searching out any new abrasion or indentation or irregularity. Feels his whole body being drawn out like the details of a map. Reno pauses at every bruise and scrape he finds, pushing lightly, testing the pliancy of the skin, trying to judge pain by some nuance in Rude's breathe. He would stop if Rude made any complaint, has before, but Rude doesn’t. This doesn’t bother him. Pain: less than a one. 

Once he’s made this first exam Reno’s mouth follows his fingers, marking out the new features of Rude’s topography. Wet heat soothing over tender skin, tongue flicking out as if it would heal wounds, clean them. In spite of his exhaustion, Rude hardens against the mattress, but there’s no force yet behind this. He remembers reading once that humans put hurt in their mouths because of the nerves there, helps the brain feel out the damage. If the mouth can’t reach, the hands take stock instead. 

Rude rolls himself over, making Reno sway, hands shooting out to balance against his chest. Rude’s cock brushes against his partners naked thigh, and he unconsciously clasps a hand over his hip, rocking his own up again. 

Reno’s hair is down, damp, streaming over them, cold light falling on his shoulders. Rude cannot see his eyes, but he knows if he could he’d be fixed by the evaluating stare of his commanding officer, not a lovers gaze, so he holds himself still. 

It begins again. Eyes sharp. Hands rough. Mouth hot. Rude finds it harder and harder to keep still as Reno ghosts over the sensitive spot beneath his ribs, in favor of cataloging the tender, burst capillaries to the right of it. 

It's an impressive bruise. He’d gotten it that morning, when the target had, literally, gotten the drop on him from the rafters. It had been Reno’s idea to split up, clear the building faster. Rude is more than capable of handling himself, and it had been his own overconfidence that got him jumped, this time. But the tension in his jawline says Reno still feels responsible.

When he’s satisfied himself of the damage, Reno turns him back over, running his thumbs beneath Rude’s shoulder blades, pulling the remaining tension out of his muscles bit by bit, but doing nothing to soothe his now insistent desire.

Still, Rude is nearly unconscious when Reno finally leans over, pressing his chest against Rude’s back, and his lips against Rude’s cheek.

“Glad you’re alright, is all.”

Then he’s off the bed, and padding out into the living room, where the T.V is still on, loud enough to let him get to sleep. In his wake, the air over Rude’s back is cold. He pulls the blanket around himself, and drifts to sleep.


End file.
